Please Stay
by RoseDare
Summary: Bella Swan is a Harvard educated struggling writer who hides behind a wall of humor, and cynicism. When Alice helps her get a new job as Edward Cullen's (the most prolific Studio Director in America) assistant, she learns to take what life hands you without questioning why. Her boss, known to be a womanizer and an ass, makes her feel something. Something she was sure didn't exist.
1. Prologue--Freedom

Prologue:

_(Freedom!)_

**Chapter Song: Old Man by Neil Young**

I've never been in love. I've loved, sure. I mean, I have parents that I know for a fact that I couldn't live without; I have a job that pays the bills, and I have friends who are the whole reason I'm not some piece of dust floating out of a toaster oven from my Harvard College dorm.

But I've never felt the undying, unadulterated love that comes from being with the one other person in the world that seems to just fit you.

I've read about it…seen countless movies on the subject and after further deliberation on my part, it simply doesn't exist.

Did I burst your little bubble?

Are you thinking that tomorrow, or the day after that, your prince will swoop in from his gallant steed, and whisk you away?

Well that must be very nice for you. But unfortunately, I have to look at things in perspective. I have to live in reality. You know, the real world where the closest thing to a happy marriage is a couple laying in bed finally compromising between two equally horrible pay-per-view shows? Yeah, that one.

You'd think I'd have a different outlook on life considering my oh-to-well-stick-up-butt education, but no. No. For some reason, even the philosophy classes and the English lectures didn't inspire the least bit of optimism.

That's me. Isabella Marie Swan, the Harvard educated un-optimistic waitress.

Oh wait. Yeah, I said that didn't I? Yep. You heard me right. A waitress. A minimum-freaking-wage waitress, who works at a extremely happy-go-lucky Mexican restraint named "El Diablo," which I might ad, is also the name for a two for one spicy taco platter if you ever find yourself in the greater New York area.

If this was a movie, which it isn't, this is the part where I would freeze frame. Right on my face, zoomed in on the large sombrero I was wearing, singing the Spanish 'Happy Birthday Song.'

Then, I'd cut and change focus to the crying little boy I was forcing this jubilee on. His mother was holding his small, cheese-caked hands, clapping them softly together, in an attempt at merriment.

I wanted to throw my sombrero to the floor, and tell the lady to give the poor kid a break, and let him play with the lard filled cheese on his plate, like he so desperately was trying for.

Wow. I'm making myself seem like a complete and total jerk. I'm not a jerk. Really.

I've just been handed a grande enchilada platter with a side of sour cream, instead of a job offer.

People think that when you go to a high-class college, people just hand you a job. But that's not what happens. What happens is you go to school, get a degree in English lit, then you get thrown back into the un-cushioned life of everybody else.

Suddenly you realize you love books. You love books so much you want to write books. Then you sit at your desk with a pen and paper, waiting for inspiration.

But that's the thing. I'm twenty four. I've lived twenty four years on this planet and I haven't got anything to say. I don't want to spout words and feed the growing fire of meaningless novels, or go into some last ditch attempt at biographies, where you spend more time learning about someone else's life, instead of your own I might ad, then they did!

So this is where I'm at. In New York City, the infamous land of artistic fluidity and creative inspiration, clapping at the end of an un-wanted "Happy Birthday."

"Yayyy!" The entire ensemble, which included not only my room mate Mike who served as a hopeful actor/server, Angela the waitress/aspiring dancer, Jose the only one who could pronounce half the song correctly waiter/son of the owner, and finally the oh so beautiful, but oh so bitchy, the amazing hostess Rosalie, who actually aspired to be, well, nothing. Just air behind that platinum blonde head of chemical induced curls.

The mother hushed his sobs and smiled at me, being the closest to her.

"Thank you! That was wonderful."

You're welcome upper middle class business woman who doesn't know how to change a diaper.

"You're welcome Ma'am. Can I get you anything else, or just your bill?"

"Just the bill thanks, Eric here is getting a little antsy."

Antsy? The boy was on a full upwards climb towards tantrum.

"Yes Ma'am." I pulled out the pre-ready bill folder, and set in on top of the ceramic tile table. "Pay when you're ready." I moved to walk away, and take off the large oddly orange hat I was donning, when she waved me back.

"No, no. Here." Without looking, without even glancing at her sixty dollar bill, she handed me three hundred dollar bills. "Take the change."

Alrighty then.

"Thank you. Have a pleasant evening."

She nodded, and I took my escape.

Today was a special day. Because not only did I just get an amazing knock-your-socks-off tip, but today was my last day at El Diablo.

Yes. You heard me. Unemployment here I come!

Three weeks ago I had handed in my resignation letter, and now I was free. Well, I would be after I cleaned this lady's table.

She gathered her belongings, awkwardly placed the kid on her hip, and with a smile to me exited.

I have never gone to that cash register faster in my life.

"Hey, $64.56."

Mike, ever the multi-tasker, set his tray behind him, and took the money to give me back my change.

"So, last day in the big house eh? You're gonna miss me."

I rolled my eyes. "I live with you Mike."

Mike tapped his head smiling. "No, see, my room mate, she would never ditch me with the evening rush. No, see, she's a kind and wonderful person, who wouldn't make me stay here 'till ten with the 'Anti-Brady Bunch'."

"Oh don't say it like that, say it like, 'Hey, today will be an adventure without Bella. Today, I get to turn on the alarm all by myself!"

He laughed, closed the money tray with his hip, and grabbed the tray. "You're right. Stay postitive is my motto. Or it was before I lost all hope and dreams."

I wrapped my arm around him, and gave him a noisy kiss. "You're dreams are intact. See, their right there. With table sevens empty coke bottle."

He made a disgusted noise, wiping the invisible slobber off of his cheek. "Yeah, yeah. Get out of here before I pitch my tray into your neck."

I nodded towards the dirty table.

He just motioned towards the ceiling. "I'll get it. Be free Bella."

I wanted to kiss him again, but hearing table nine snap their fingers in the air, and point down towards their empty table mats, I sighed, thanked him, and for the last time, hopefully, of my waiting career, I timed out.

_"…I've been first and last_  
_Look at how the time goes past._  
_But I'm all alone at last._  
_Rolling home to you._

_Old man take a look at my life_  
_I'm a lot like you_  
_I need someone to love me_  
_the whole day through_  
_Ah, one look in my eyes_  
_and you can tell that's true..."-Neil Young_

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_**A/N: Hey there! So this is the prologue. How'd you like it? If you leave me a review, I'll…fall over in happiness like a dog you scratched in just the right place. **_

_**Now, this is just a little heads up, since you and me are going to be seeing a lot of each other—The chapter song, which you will find at the beginning of every chapter, is meant for you to listen to first. All songs I list can be found at YouTube, so be sure to take a listen before each read. **_

_**Also, this is going to be a very long, very emotional, very adult story. Please keep in mind that all elements in my stories are for those of a mature mindset. **_

_**Finally, just so you don't have to wait by you're computers begging the screen to work faster, I update every three days. That's the deal. Most of this story is already written, I'm just giving you guys time to read before I slam you with another huge chapter. (Believe me, they're big)**_

_**Alright. Sorry for my ramblings—I promise all A/N's aren't going to be like this. **_

_**Thanks for reading! And Reviewing?**_

_**Hugs and Loves, Jane.**_

**Disclaimer: Nope. I don't own Twilight. Yep. They're all property of Stephanie Meyer. **


	2. Chapter One--Dial Me In

Chapter One:

_(Dial Me In)_

**Chapter Song: Despair by Yeah Yeah Yeahs**

"Bella. Please, okay, please. Just do it. Come on."

"Alice. Please tell me, for the love of all that is holy, that you didn't."

"Well, I mean I did a little bit…"

"Alice?! What part of freedom don't you understand?"

"You need to pay the bills, I have a resource. As your best friend, I'm completely within my moral parameters to do this."

"I'm perfectly capable-"

"Of being a stubborn ass. It's a favor. You could just say thank you."

I flopped back onto my mattress.

One day. One day of blessed freedom, and already another half job, another space-filling-mouth-feeding-damn-it job was being forced into my throat.

Alice, my best friend in the entire known universe, who was currently studying fashion in Paris, probably eating a croissant and wearing a stupid striped sweater, was telling me that she had taken the liberty of calling in a favor of a favor for me.

It's not that I didn't know I needed a job. I knew that. I was more than aware that the rent was not going to pay itself. I completely understood that I couldn't wait for a book to come to me, and hope that everything fell into place.

I just didn't want to be captured again. I didn't want to be pinned to the corkboard that was my life with a needle, holding my beautiful wings on display forever.

Wow. That was dramatic.

"Thank you. Thank you for caring about me from half way across the world, and thank you for always being there. _But-"_

I heard her groan.

"Even if I did take the interview, which I'm not, but if I did, what would I even say? 'Hi, I'm Bella and my last job was scraping congealed nachos off of a seat cover for minimum wage. But don't worry, I've got a degree in English that will serve this job no good. When can I start?"

"Well, I wouldn't word it quite like that…"

"Alice!"

"Bella, their already gonna call you. Just try to be polite if you turn it down." Her voice was disappointed, but slighty distracted.

"Where are you?"

There was shuffling at the other end, then giggling.

"Oh…my…god. Alice please tell me you're not naked!"

"You want me to lie to you?"

I groaned, and squirmed at the weirdness of knowing someone was touching a naked Alice on the other end.

"So gross. Just tell me when their calling me, then I'll leave you to lick crème brulee off of Pierre's hairy chest."

She laughed, and told me to expect the call at four. After more awkward giggling and more strangely low shuffling, we hung up, and I waited for the next call to roll in at ten minutes.

The phone interview wasn't for another minimum wage job, no, Alice had to go out and actually get me an interview for a real job. One that pays exceptionally well, in one of the best parts of the city, and for one of the most influential and richest men in the continental U.S.

I was to be, if I wanted and played my cards right, Edward Cullen's personal secretary and assistant. With no background in management, with little to none experience on a computer, Alice had some how made me sound like an ideal candidate for a job which I literally knew nothing about.

Edward Cullen was the director and owner of "Cullen Studios" in Manhattan. The largest Films Production Studio in America. My job, would be to manage all of Mr. Cullen's accounts, his schedule, and see to it that his job was as easy as humanly possible.

I got up, walking to the fridge, to get the carton of orange juice and pour myself a glass.

This job would be the third after school. The third in what seemed to be along list of never ending jobs that I cared nothing for.

Mike, when I first met him, asked me why a Harvard Grad couldn't afford to live alone in a penthouse somewhere, and say to hell with rent, because it was just chump change.

I guess that's a decent question. The answer, is that all of my tuition, books, everything, was paid for on a full-ride scholarship. Basically, I'd never had to actually apply for any student loans, borrow money from relatives or anything. I was debt free, but none the richer.

It's a common mistake people make. That's why I tend to keep it to myself. Mike knows, Alice knows, Charlie knows, and I'm sure a few of my old friends from Forks know, but other than that, I hadn't told anyone.

I remember when I applied at "El Diablo," the owner, Carlos, almost didn't hire me because my only job experience I listed on my application was a auto mechanic for "Jake's Garage" back in La Push.

After I finished college, I didn't have a whole lot of ideas, so I figured I should go home. Get back to my roots.

Charlie had been thrilled his kid was finally out of school, and maybe for once they could actually spend some time together.

Jake had given me a job, taught me the ropes, and me and him became close. We hung out everyday after work, had a beer, and talked about anything that floated into our heads.

Why did I leave Forks for NY? Well, because one day, after about two years of being back home, Jake proposed.

Yep. We weren't dating, we had never kissed, and all of the sudden one day after a routine brake change, he popped the question.

I wasn't in love with him. Not in the way he was with me.

He was childish and in his head he probably felt his feelings were mature and developed into the real thing.

But they weren't.

Things got awkward at the shop after I said no. We never talked, we never even stayed in the same room with each other longer than absolutely necessary. So, that was the end of that chapter.

It was time to leave Forks.

I walked back over to my bed, sat criss-cross on the quilt with my blackberry in between my legs, and stared down at the phone, waiting for it to ring.

If I took this job, it meant security. I might even learn to enjoy it.

Finally, after two minutes of staring and stewing, the phone went off, alerting me that a private unknown number was trying to get through.

I squared my shoulders, took a deep breath and took the call.

"This is Bella."

"Miss. Swan."

The other woman on the line sounded sour, almost as if calling me was a huge imposition in her day.

"Yes. This is she."

"Miss. Swan, my name is Jessica Stanley, I am the current first assistant of Mr. Cullen."

First assistant, I thought there was only one. Playing along, I replied as if this wasn't news to me.

"Yes, Hello Miss. Stanley."

"Hello." Her greeting was closed at the end, and was short in length. It was clear to me then that no matter what I did she wouldn't enjoy this phone call. "I'm calling regarding an application sent to me from a mutual friend of ours. Alice, has told me quite a bit about you already, but I'd like to ask you some questions if you wouldn't mind."

Oh, what the hell.

"Sure, go ahead."

"Wonderful. Well, let me start by telling you about the job. I am the first assistant currently, which means basically you will be working under me for the first week, to get the hang of things. At the end of that week, you will become the single assistant, and I will be stepping away to pursue another job as PA of a few of Mr. Cullen's top directors.

What Mr. Cullen does, what you'll be handling, is that of sort of a Movie-Developer. He buys the rights to movies, then the movies come to his Studios to create a set, an overall look, camera's, lighting, every choice that is important, is made there with Mr. Cullen's supervision.

You will be in charge of carrying out all Mr. Cullen's business needs. If he wants a different camera in studio three, your job is to get it. If he wants an actress's trailer moved, you see to it. If Mr. Cullen needs you to send out a Memo to all the studio's who are dipping in ratings, again, that's all you. Still with me?"

"I think so."

"Good. What I want to ask you, is do you have any experience in managing difficult requests?"

I wanted to snort. She wasn't going to give me the job. I got that from the first six seconds of the grudging call.

"Do I? I worked as a waitress for a year, and before that a mechanic at a all male garage. I deal with difficult situations and customers all the time."

Silence on the other end.

"Alice mentioned, you uh, have a Harvard Education?"

Oh she did, did she?

"Yes. I graduated with a 4.0, top of my class with a Masters in English Lit."

"But you just said…"

"I worked at a few jobs since then, just to pay the bills."

I heard the rustling of papers, and the movement of the phone from shoulder to shoulder.

"I see. Well your education is very impressive, but not to be to forward, but your work history is lacking."

I stayed silent.

"That being said, I only have one more question."

"Alright."

"Miss. Swan, what do you know about Mr. Cullen?"

"I'm sorry?" Did she not just spend a half hour going into detail about his work?

"About his personal life, the rumors, what do you know?"

Crap. Crap, crap, crap.

I don't watch TV, I don't listen to gossip on celebrities, and aside from picking up a "TEENPOP" magazine when I was twelve, I've never read one article in a tabloid.

"Honestly?" Well, here it goes. "I don't know anything. I don't do TV really, and I'm not big on celebrity stalking, so to me, I guess Mr. Cullen's another business man."

"Fantastic."

Huh?

"Bella I need your word. I had to give mine and now I need yours. That you will not let emotions run your performance at the job. If you hear something, you shrug it off. You can't make judgments."

"Uh, yeah. Sure. I promise."

"Good. Are you available tomorrow for a second interview, face to face, so I can show you the studios and Mr. Cullen and can meet you?"

Wait. She wanted to meet me? With my below par resume and un-impressive lack of knowledge of the world around me?

"Um, I mean, yeah. Yeah, okay."

She gave me the address and the time to be there, informing me that I would be searched and asked for three different forms of ID with a picture.

I thanked her, more than a little stunned, hung up, then sent a text to Alice telling her what happened.

**I got a second interview. **

**Thanks for telling me**

**about Miss. Coldass. **

Two seconds later, I got a call.

"You took the job?!"

"No, I didn't. I just agreed for another interview. Nothing is set in stone-"

"Oh bull. I know you Bella. You would never have agreed to meet again if you weren't interested."

"That why I took the job at "El Diablo?"

"No. You took it because Mike was there and you felt safe."

"I don't even know why she wanted to move things forward. I basically told her my last two jobs were crap and I live in a social cave."

"Well for whatever reason she liked you enough to ask for another interview so you must not have tanked that bad."

I talked for awhile with Alice, she convinced me that I would be hired, but only if I went out and got a new wardrobe.

"You are in desperate need of a little black dress. And nice shoes. And some good trousers."

"Alice you know how I am. I'll walk into the store and pick the first thing that I see. I'm just gonna end up with more of what I already have!"

"Then take Mike! He's such a little man whore that he can help you choose women's clothing. Although, he may have more experience with what's underneath the dress then on top of it…"

Alice and Mike had a history. One that was long, filled with drunken nights and lingerie.

"Down girl. Mike is working tonight."

"Well when is the interview tomorrow?"

"Three."

"Then have him go with you tomorrow. I know his shift starts at six, since Mike feels the need to post about it every four seconds on Twitter, so just go before then."

I thought about it. Mike was a expert on the female's wardrobe habits…

Just then I heard the door close, and Mike come in.

"Hey Bells. Carlos gave me the night shift off." He turned, locked the door behind him, and set down a plastic bag on the table.

I got off my bed, walking through my already open door to sniff at the bag.

"Is that him?"

"Yeah."

"Did he have an early shift or something?"

Mike looked over his shoulder, recognized the voice from the speaker, and snatched the phone from my ear.

"Hey Alice. Yes, I had the morning shift and I got off early. Did you miss me Alice? You know Bella is probably getting a little tired answering all of your questions about me. My eyes can only be described in so many colors."

Alice said something back snarky no doubt, and Mike laughed. "Yeah, yeah. What do you want Al?"

While he listened, I got up to put on my coat and grab my keys and wallet. Never was one for a purse, too big to be any real use.

"Ah. Well, I suppose I could. Bella could use a couple of push-up bras." He winked my way.

Oh lord. I was going to look like a porn star.

"_You're there through my wasted nights  
You're there through my wasted years  
You're there through my wasted life_

You've always been there  
You were there through my wasted years  
Through all of my lonely fears" –Yeah Yeah Yeahs

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**_A/N: Hoped you Liked the first chapter! Leave me a review telling me why you think I chose this song. You get it right, you get a shout out next chapter! Love you guys!_**

**Disclaimer: Nope. I don't own Twilight. Yep. They're all property of Stephanie Meyer.**


	3. Chapter Two--Frozen Faces

Chapter Two:

(Frozen Faces)

**Chapter Song: Dreamers by Jack Savoretti**

I looked down at the large desk in front of Miss Stanley with a sense of wonder…and faint amusement.

Her piles of paper work, were separated into six different piles, each color coded and labeled.

It made me think that me and this Jessica girl had nothing in common. My desk, the one adjacent to my bed, is filled with bills and take out menu's. And you can bet your sweet hiney they aren't color coded.

"Sorry, I'll just be a moment." She raised a finger to me, leaning into her phone to finish her conversation. "Take a seat."

I felt her rake my body with her eyes, taking in my dress.

Under Mike's careful eye, and my swatting hand when he got a little to close to trying to show me just how a high a push up bra should take 'the girls,' I had bought a suitable little black dress.

The neck was high, the fabric soft, and synched at the waist. After arguing down the six inch heels, me and Mike compromised on a little blue kitten Prada heel. I had whined and groaned at the price, but somehow Mike had sweet talked the lady into giving me a deal.

"Yes, yes. Well, Mr. Cullen specifically told you… yes, yes, I understand that but…" She rolled her eyes and kicked her long legs up onto the small leg rest beside her.

I took the moment to look around the office. It was pretty large, and directly beside Mr. Cullen's. Unfortunately, he was dealing with a crisis down at one of the stage rooms, so I didn't get a peak, but I had however seen the pictures.

The man, well, the man was gorgeous. Like movie star, hurts to look at you gorgeous.

His eyes, a strange shade of gold, seemed to burn through the ink. They tinkled and sparkled, and dared you to look away. His lips, pouty and firm, were drawn back in a straight line. Not in one of the pictures lining the halls, was he smiling. Not one. I checked.

His skin, was well shaved, and I'm sure that if I leaned in to sniff his collar, it would reek of expensive cologne.

"Mr. Ronchero, I understand that Mr. Cullen promised you extra funding, but that was only if you doubled your ratings in the first five episodes. Unfortunately, you haven't met that condition. Yes, yes, I'm looking at the numbers right now, and although you are close, you've missed the…yes. Yes. I'll see that it does. Thank you."

She hung up and after running her hands through her long brown wavy hair, she sighed and looked at me.

"Producers. Always wanting a higher budget." She looked at me for conformation, or maybe sympathy.

I nodded, like I knew what the hell she was talking about.

"Anyway…" She stood up, and tapped her fingers against the leather desk mat in front of her. "Let's give you a tour of the theaters."

"Theaters?"

"That's what we call each studio." She waved a manicured hand at me as she walked around the desk towards her door.

I stood up, and turned to follow her.

"You don't have any additional questions for me?" I jogged up to meet her long strides.

"I'll just ask you as we walk."

"Hello Miss. Stanley. Nice day, isn't it?" A woman behind a small glass desk asked her, probably in her late fifties, and Jessica only answered her in the form of a small "mmm."

Wow, she was an ass.

I stopped to let her get ahead, and paused at the women's desk.

"Hi. I'm Bella, nice to meet you. I'm applying for a job here and though I should introduce myself."

She looked a little shocked, but after a moment shook my hand with a small smile.

"Hello there. I'm Julia, the receptionist. I'll sort of be your assistant."

"Miss Swan?" I heard Jessica call me, and after a rushed goodbye and apology, I hurried after.

We walked through hallway after hallway, each adorned with framed pictures and newspaper clippings.

Some were about the family of the Cullen's, showing articles written over eighty years ago. Other's newer and glossier, were of all the top shows and movies the studio's hosted. One picture, was a large portrait of the grand opening, after Mr. Cullen remodeled and updated the place.

As we passed through the final hallway, we entered a small elevator, with a real live elevator guy. All day, he had to sit there and press buttons.

I felt bad for complaining about "El Diablo."

"Miss Stanley."

Another dubious reply, and another awkward silence between a man doing his job, and a woman who thought herself above his company.

The door quickly opened again, and Jessica stormed out.

"She always like that?" I sighed at the guy, and he gave me the same expression Julia did. Then smiled and shrugged.

Jesus, is everybody this shocked at friendliness?

I caught up to her again, and she walked down another flight of stairs.

"So, Miss Swan, watch a lot of movies? You already told me no TV." She glanced at me like I just told her a joke.

"Not really." I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of telling her that not only could I not afford a television, but I didn't have the cash to spare a ticket.

She shook her head, as she threw open two double doors. "Where have you been Miss Swan? Are you some sort of recluse?"

I glared at her back for a moment, ready to retort back something I would most likely regret later…but I was suddenly…distracted.

In front of me, not far from where I now was, was Mr. Cullen.

He was standing in between what looked like at least fifty large warehouse buildings, all with a large numbers engraved in a wooden sign.

He was patiently standing back on his heels, watching a small Italian man scream at the top of his lungs. His face, ever devoid of emotion, waited for his opponent to run out of air.

"Oh, there he is. He doesn't like to be interrupted though. We'll just come see him later. Come on, I'll show you the set of Tyler Crowley's new movie, "Beyond Care."

I nodded, and my feet followed her, but my eyes were trained on my future boss.

He was even more beautiful in person, but his mouth, set in the line he apparently permanently wore, made me want to cringe.

The small Italian man, now spouting obscenities, wasn't in the slightest getting to Mr. Cullen. At least not on the outside.

How could you meet such desperation like he was, and not even give the slightest care?

It seemed Mr. Cullen rode in the same car as Jessica.

I finally tore my eyes away from the scene, and hid my face. If he had scene me, he didn't give any indication…and I was thankful. My expression was probably torn between disgust, and pity.

Jessica led me into the studio…Tyler Somebody-or-rather's…and I took a deep breath, preparing myself for more disappointing characters.

The outside of the building had been the color of stressed metal. Pulled and welded into a strong yet rough design. But inside…it was like another world.

There was about a hundred feet between the camera's and the set, which was dark, and filled with chairs and the faint scent of caramel mochas.

"Right now the crew is out promoting, so you get to see the rare moment of an empty set."

Jessica showed me all the camera's, the different levels of the set, how it was built, how certain pieces could be moved, and where the director could sit back and watch the footage.

As I said before, I don't do TV. But setting foot in such a creative atmosphere…it was like breathing in life.

She showed me a few more sets, each were full and filming, so we had to stay quiet.

Even though the studio's hold a vast amount of sets, out of the three I saw, the last one was my favorite.

They had somehow turned the floor into a giant pool, that small raft gently floated on. The backdrop was a large sky full of stars.

The two actors, sitting on the raft, were holding each other close and whispering words of love.

To their left, was a large electric fan on its lowest setting to fan out the woman's hair, and give the pool the effect of a vast ocean.

It was beautiful.

Jessica finally pulled me away from the gorgeous setting, and back towards the halls leading to the offices.

During the entire enterprise, she had been asking questions. Asking what made me want to work there...if I would take the job seriously…if I was okay with working overtime…nothing actually personal.

When I had done my interview at Harvard, they had asked me about dreams…about my future. I guess I sort of thought that was going to be the theme. But no. She just wanted to know the textbook answers.

Jessica Stanley was not one who cared, or thought about the hopes of others.

We circled back around to where Mr. Cullen had been, but he was long gone.

I couldn't say I was disappointed.

Finally, at the end of the tour, she half heartedly introduced me to the few workers that would be carrying out my needs.

There was an Asian man named Ben, who was tall and lanky, and had the funniest personality of the group. There was also two young women named Sarah and Louise. Sarah I learned, was Julia's granddaughter, interning for the summer under Mr. Cullen's strict eye.

They were all nice, and I had a feeling I would spend most of my time with them. They seemed to be the most human of the bunch.

I said my goodbyes to them, and Jessica led me back to her office.

She glanced at the adjoining office, and Jessica pulled me to the side.

"Okay, here's the deal. Mr. Cullen doesn't want jokes, he doesn't want wit, he wants you to be honest. He wants the facts, and he wants them fast. Don't try to get on his good side, he doesn't have one."

Oh. Well then.

I nodded as Jessica knocked on the frame of his office.

"Mr. Cullen?"

He looked up from his papers, thumb pausing only a moment to scan my face.

"Hello Miss Swan. Take a seat. Let's talk."

"…_Men of the cloth, painters and poets  
Starting a revolution  
Without even knowing it  
Making the world around us  
Making heaven and hell  
Saying so much about us  
Still they had so much to tell  
_

_Whatever happened to the dreamers  
They always looked beyond the sky  
Saw a world they could believe in  
But only when they close their eyes_

Where are they now  
They've all left town  
Bringing the clouds…" –Jack Savoretti

* * *

**_A/N: Hoped you loved it, and a shout out to Sammie who was too shy to leave a review and sent me a PM instead;) Sorry this chapter was short, a huge one is coming up. Also, if you wanna see Bella's outfit, see my Profile. Love ya!_**

**Disclaimer: Nope. I don't own Twilight. Yep. They're all property of Stephanie Meyer.**


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